University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.

At midnight, when Joe and Sneak were to be relieved by Cæsar
and Pompey, Glenn and William rose again. Sneak, in reply to
their interrogatories could give no information in regard to the dead
Indian's companion, for William said there must be a surviving spy
in the vicinity. They watched an hour with the negro sentinels,
but could not perceive any indications of the presence of another
Apache. Then, after exhorting Cæsar and Pompey to observe a
strict vigilance during the remainder of the night, they returned
once more to their couches.

The ebony guardians strode to and fro with a full appreciation of
the importance of the trust reposed in their keeping. But, unfortunately,
when a Virginia negro, late at night, is silent, he is likely
to fall asleep. Hence it was indispensable to guard against such a
perilous contingency; and none could have been more completely
convinced of this necessity, than the dusky sentinels themselves.

“Cæsar,” said Pompey, when they met, the fifth or sixth time.

“Pompey,” responded Cæsar.

“You's still got eyes open?”

“Wide awake.”

“See nuffin?”

“Nairy thing.”

“Den dere's nuffin to see? Cæsar.”

“Pompey.”

“Dese 'simmons' long time gittin ripe.”

“Dey was ripe last month, in old Virginny.”

“No 'possoms come till dey git ripe.”

“'Spose not,” said Cæsar.

“But den, Cæsar, we gits deer meat, bar meat, and buffalo meat,

out here. No patroles arter us—we's patroles ourselves. Heah,
heah.”

“Heah, heah,” laughed Cæsar, also, equally delighted with the
change of residence. On the preceding afternoon, which was their
holiday, they had filled a wagon with the game they killed themselves,
in conjunction with Hannibal, a mulatto, who was a good
hunter, and who always contrived to put the hardest of the labor on
his companions.

“Den, Cæsar, dere's no good for nuffin free niggers out here, and
no poor white people.”

“Dat's so,” said Cæsar. “Its Happy Walley, we's in.”

“And de Indgens here, nebber see a nigger before. Dey won't
sculp us, Cæsar.”

“Sure ob dat, Pompey?”

“Sartin. We's got no har. Dey don't know what wool's good
for. Heah, heah.”

“Den, Pomp, it's de white man dey fights. Dey don't know
nuffin 'bout black man. Hannibal's der own color, and dey won't
kill him.”

“Heah, heah.”

They laughed quite heartily at this idea, and resumed their
rounds. But when silence began to beget drowsiness, they again
resorted to the only remedy.

“Cæsar,” said Pompey.

“Pompey,” said Cæsar.

“Didn't you hear dat gun to-night?”

“No.”

“I did.”

“You was dreamin.”

“I was sleeping—but I heard it. It woke me up.”

“Is dat so?”

“Cæsar.”

“Pompey.”

“Cæsar,” continued Pompey, “Dinah heard it too. Dey's been
shooting somefin; and 'twas Massa Joe's musket, for it shook like
a earthquake, Cæsar. Dey kilt somefin. I knowed it when I seed
de spades by de stable. Dere was fresh dirt on 'em.

“Golly, Pomp, dat's news,” said Cæsar, his eyes twinkling like
stars. “Muss been somebody, or a dead dog dey buried. See any
marks on de ground?”

“Tink me did; can't fool dis nigger. Cæsar, you go my side,
too, and I'll go see.”

Cæsar started forward in a much brisker walk than usual; and,
instead of confining his perambulations to his own side of the enclosure,
he made the entire circle of the palisades.

Pompey, infallible in the unravelling of nocturnal mysteries, soon
discovered where the sod had been cut and replaced over the object
buried behind the stable. When throwing up the earth he was
in his element; and it did'nt require many minutes for him to penetrate
the loose soil, and reach down to the Indian.

“Who's dar,” cried he, seeing a moccasin. “Who's dar I say!
Heah, heah. He's too dead to answer me. Dat's de gun I heard
in my sleep. Who is it? Mus be Indgen—we seed all de rest
'cept Massa Roughgrove, and he's nebber out in de night. Stop—
I'll see.” He cut the moccasin, and was able, by the light of the
declining moon to perceive the color of the foot. “Dat'll do,” said
he. He then threw back the earth, and replaced the sod with care
and precision, but left the spades exactly where they had been forgotten
by Sneak and Joe. Then hastening back, he resumed his
round, unmindful of the enquiring looks of Cæsar.

“Pompey,” said Cæsar, being the first to break the silence, after
meeting and parting several times.

“Cæsar,” responded Pompey.

“What's got in dat nigger?”

“De debbil.”

“What's you seen?”

“Indgen.”

“De debbil! Whar?”

“Behind de stable.”

“Golly. Why did'nt you shoot?”

“Dead. Dey kilt him, when I heard de gun go off in my sleep.
Look sharp, Cæsar, dar's Indgens about.”

“But he's dead. Dead Indgen don't frighten dis nigger.”

“Cæsar, when one's dead, dar muss be some alive—dat proves it.
Cæsar you's brave, and dey say Pompey's brave as Cæsar. We
muss keep our eyes skinned, and we muss fight like de debbil, and
keep up our kracters.”

“What's dat?” said Cæsar.

“What's what, Cæsar?”

“Dat ting on de fence. De moon's gwying down, and I kin see
his shape.”

“Dat's a possum setting up dar,” said Pompey. “Posimmons
gwying to git ripe, Cæsar, and den we'll ketch de possums like in
old Varginny.”

“Dat's no possum, Pompey; he's too long.”

“Taint? Is he pole cat? Go close, Cæsar, you can see like a
cat in de dark.”

“Taint dark nuff yet, Pompey. Wait till we cum back.”

They separated, and strode to the opposite side, where they paused
and discussed the matter further. One still thought it was an
opossum, peeping over at the persimmon trees, and supposed it
would be bad policy to disturb him. He was in favor of letting him
learn how to get within the enclosure, so that he might show others
the way to the persimmon grove. The other still adhered to his
first opinion, that it was a pole cat; and he thought he ought to be
“chunked” down, and never be permitted to find the way to the inside
of the pallisade.

“Cæsar,” said Pompey, “its dark now, and you kin see. Go close
up under him, and take a good look.”

“Pompey,” said Cæsar, “ef it's a pole cat, I don't want to go
close up under him.”

“You know der natur—ef dey's gwying to do anything 'fensive
dey's sure to show it.”

“Dat's true,” said Cæsar, “and dis one is still.”

They met again at the appointed place, and the object of their
attention had not moved an inch.

“Cæsar,” said Pompey, “I say possum.”

“I say pole cat,” said Cæsar.

Cæsar then approached it nearer than he had hitherto done, and
placing his hand over his eyes, looked long and steadily.

“What you see, Cæsar,” asked Pompey.

“Pomp! Pomp!” said Cæsar, in great excitement, “he's got
eyes in his belly.”

“Dat's a lie,” said Pompey.

“By golly, I see two big eyes in his belly.”

“Is dat true, Cæsar?” asked Pompey, now partaking of Cæsar's
alarm. “What sort animal's dat? I nebber hearn of him. It
must be de debbil. Let's run.”

“Run!” said Cæsar. “Don't you mind Massa Charles said we
muss nebber run from de debbil?”

“I mind's it—but den he said we musn't shoot de debbil. If
he'd only let us have a fair fight wid him, we'd fight de debbil heself.
Come. We'll walk den, if you won't run.”

Cæsar turned round to walk away; but he had not taken two
steps before his cap fell off.

“What's dat?” asked Pompey, pausing.

Cæsar stood perfectly still, with his hands rubbing the right side
of his head.

“What's dat, I say?” continued Pompey. “Is anything dar.
Dere's no bees in de dark.”

“Pick up my cap, Pompey.”

“Here,” said Pompey—“and dere's a hole in it.”

“Is der? Dat's it. Look here;” and Cæsar exhibited his
hand, which even by starlight, could be seen to be covered with
blood. “Look, Pomp, de pole cat's gone!”

“Dat's true, and here's a arrow sticking in de ground. Cæsar,
he mought 've kilt you. Call massa.”

“No—I'll shoot. Clar de way.” He ran his gun through the
nearest loop hole, but no Indian could be seen. “Dar's nuffin dar
to shoot,” he continued, a moment after. “Pompey, run and tell
Mas a Glenn. I'll watch.”

Pompey did so; and soon after both Glenn and William repaired
to the place where the supposed animal had been seen.

“Here's de arrow,” said Pompey.

“And it has the war feather,” said William. “But how could
he look over the palisade, fifteen feet high?”

“This explains it,” said Glenn, opening one of the concealed
narrow gates. “Here is a rude ladder made of poles and grape
vines. He did not even attempt to take it away. I fear war is declared.”

“It is to be feared,” said William; “and the Apaches can count
many thousand warriors.”

“True,” said Glenn, “but our friends, the Camanches, can muster
quite as many. Besides our small cannon up in the tower will
sweep the delta, and my fire-works will frighten the savages.”

“Very true,” said William; “but they may likewise frighten our
friends. Our best plan will be to send for Red Eagle, and explain
to him the nature of the rockets, and other pyrotechnic devices.”

“Who will go?” asked Glenn.

“I will,” said William.

“No, oh no,” cried La-u-na, who, with Mary, being alarmed at
the unusual disturbances of the night, had followed their husbands.

“No,” said Mary. “You must not go, brother William.”

“Some one must go,” said William,” and I am the best qualified.”

“No, no,” said La-u-na. “I will go. I can find my uncle. None
of the enemy will hurt me.”

“We cannot consent to that,” said Glenn; “but there may be no
necessity. Perhaps they can be overtaken to-morrow.”

“Not easily,” said William. “They started this night after their
visit to the cave. Perhaps La-u-na or I may find one of the spies
left in the neighborhood, and he will send a runner after them. And
there may be no necessity for haste. The Apaches don't come for
a month yet; and they may be now hundreds of miles distant hunting
the buffalo. Let us return to the house.”

They left Cæsar and Pompey to continue their watch till daylight.

“Cæsar,” said Pompey, when they met the second time at the
scene of the startling incident.

“Pompey,” was the reply.

“Let me see your head. Golly, de blood's runnin down your
nose. Is you kilt?”

“No, Pompey, I tink not. De arrow scraped my head, but didn't
go in. It's took a streak of de wool away and cut thro de hide.”

“Dat's nuffin, den. It'll get well itself. But he's sculped you
Cæsar—heah, heah.”

“If dat's all, I don't mind sculping,” said Cæsar. “But den ef
de arrow had gone in, Pomp.”

“No danger ob dat; heah, heah. You's got too hard a bone
for dat. It turned de arrow. Heah, heah.”

“'Spose, den, Pompey, de nex Indgen shoots you in de back—
what den?”

“Oh hush. Don't talk bout sich tings. What's dat?”

“What's what? dat light way over yonder?”

“Golly, its not de sun.”

It was not. It was the light of a burning prairie in the distance,
far to the east.

“I know what's it,” said Cæsar. “It's de buffalo. I heard
Massa Charles say twas time to see de prairie on fire in dat quarter,
and he tole me to keep a look out for it. Dat's de cause why
no more Indgens is here. Dey's arter der winter's wittals.”

“De light gits lighter,” said Pompey.

“Dat's true,” said Cæsar. “Massa says when der's no breeze
down here in de valley, its blowing like blazes in de prairie. It's
comin, Pompey. We's got to look out and 'tinguish our names.”

Again they separated, traversing their allotted rounds; and for a
long time no word was spoken.

“What's dat?” at length asked Pompey.

“Dat's jest what I was gwying to ask,” said Cæsar.

“It roars like a mill dam.”

“Wusser 'an dat. It's like de woods on fire. But taint dat. It's
louder an' louder. I's gitting skeered, Pompey.”

“Me too, Cæsar. Let's run and tell Massa Charles.”

“No sar. He said we musn't leave our posts if de debbil hisself
cum. Let's shoot our guns.”

“No,” said Pompey. “Der's nuffin I see to shoot at.”

“Dey is. I see 'em,” said Cæsar.

“See what?”

“It's like a black cloud. It makes de earth trimble. Here's
Massa Charles, and Massa William, and Massa Joe, and Massa
Sneak, and all de rest. De arth's cum to a eend, Pompey. Let's
say our prayers.”

“You be dod rot,” said Sneak. “Git out of the way. Let me
see.”

“Buffalo!” said Glenn, who had been gazing intently through a
loop hole.

They came in thousands from the grove at the head of the valley.

“We must not let them stay here,” said William. “They would
destroy the grass in an hour. The Indians are on the hunt. I see
their fires a great many miles off.”

“My children,” said old Mr. Roughgrove, “we cannot stop them,
and there is danger of their penctrating the palisade. They fill the
entire width of the valley, and they cannot be turned back. They
must escape up the few steep passes at the lower end of the valley,
or be dashed down the precipice beyond the cañon.

“Then we need not expend our ammunition on them,” said
Glenn.

“No,” said William; “if we can stampede them they will kill
themselves. They will leave enough of their dead to supply us
with meat for a whole year. La-u-na, Mary, children—all of you,”
for the entire population came running out into the enclosure in
great alarm—“you need not be frightened, for there is not a particle
of danger.”

“No, there is no danger,” said Glenn. “Remain here, however;
Juliet and Charles shall see the pretty fireworks I promised them.”

Then giving some directions as to what should be done in the
event of the inundation of animals breaking down the palisade,
Glenn ascended, with as little delay as possible, to the summit of the
tower.

On swept the irresistible black torrent; and yet, when the foremost

of them reached the field which had been enclosed for purposes
of cultivation, they snorted and parted to the right and the
left.

“They are frightened not at what they see,” said William, who
with difficulty could perceive what had taken place, “but at the
scent of Pompey, Cæsar and Hannibal.”

“Cæsar. Hear dat?” said Pompey, who stood in the rear.

“I did, Pomp,” said Cæsar. “De Indgins smell white man, buffalo
de nigger, and nigger de pole cat. Heah, heah.”

“Mr. William,” said Joe, “mayn't I shoot the king bull if I see
him? I want his skin to hang up with the grizzly bear's as trophies.”

“I care not, if Glenn and my father make no objection. The
report will not be heard far in this roaring hurricane.”

Joe ran up the tower, and obtained a half uttered assent from
Glenn, who was intent upon his own business. Then he applied to
old Mr. Roughgrove, saying that both William and Glenn had given
him permission. It was silently acquiesced in.

The frightful mass had now reached the palisade, and again parted
to the right and left, and were rushing like a mountain torrent
past a rocky island.

Suddenly the air and the earth were illuminated. Glenn had ignited
one of his revolving wheels. Again the animals swayed to
the right and the left, pressing desperately against each other. Their
horns rattled like ten thousand pikes in collision; and they lowed
and bellowed as they leaped furiously on. As the display above
became brighter and grander, every motion of the huge wild animals
could be distinctly seen through the loop holes. Their glistening
eyes, as they plunged forward with their heads bent down,
were easily distinguishable; for even the green turf upon which
the beating of their hoofs resembled the sound of innumerable
muffled drums, was illuminated by the glow above.

“Biddy,” said Joe, “watch me. I'm going to kill the king bull
I was telling you about the other day.”

“And sure I'd like to see it,” said Biddy, approaching the loop
hole through which Joe had thrust his musket. “Och, all of 'em

are bulls,” said she. “Look at the mon sters! Great humps on their
backs, wid nasty horns like beetles. Why don't you shoot, Mr.
Back?”

“Stand a little to one side, Biddy, till I get aim,” said Joe. She
looked over his shoulder, and Joe blazed away. As usual, the musket
kicked tremendously, knocking Joe several paces back, and prostrating
Biddy on the ground.

“Murther!” cried she; “I'm kilt. Oh, Misther Back, you said
it was the bull you was going to shoot, but you've kilt me.”

“No, Biddy,” said Joe, helping her to rise. “It was the gun
kicking back.”

“And sure, wasn't it the bull? I hope the nasty cra ther's dead
Och, I shall niver saa anither shot.”

“Are you hurt, Biddy?”

“Murthered, amost. It struck me on the breast, and took the
breath away from me.”

“Dod rot it,” cried Sneak, “what're you shooting for? Its agin
the law to shoot without orders, at such tarnation beasts as them.”

“Be quiet, Sneak, till I lead Biddy back to the children,” said
Joe, standing his gun against the palisade. Then I'll come and
answer you. But you may know before hand that you are not the
commander of this fort. I've got orders to kill the king bull from
your betters—and I'll do it at the risk of my life. Come, Biddy,”
he continued, placing her arm in his.

“King bull,” said Sneak, “there's a hundred of 'em here.”
Then he snatched the musket when Joe's back was turned, and
charged it with powder.

“Your nose is bleeding, Biddy,” said Joe. “Let me wipe it.
You'll soon be over it. The first time I got kicked I thought I
was dead—but now, since I've been kicked so often, I don't mind
it a bit.”

“Murther, here's the blood!” said Biddy, who had not perceived
it before.

“It's all off, now,” said Joe, wiping it away, “and you're well
again. Biddy,” he continued, detaining her, “you can't think how

pretty your face is, in the reflection of Mr. Glenn's fire-works up
there. Stay, Biddy, till I put a question to you.”

“Question?”

“Yes—a plain question. Won't you be my wife?”

“Och, nonsense. Let me go, Mr. Back.”

“Think of it, Biddy, and don't call me Mr. Back, any more; but
plain Joe.”

“I don't call you Mr. Back.”

“Yes you do—but you don't mean it.”

“I don't do any sich thing, Mr. Back. I said Mr. Back.”

“I know it.”

“Yis you did know it. And I'm offinded at ye.”

“No—don't be offended, Biddy. Say, won't you have me?”

“No, I wont! For you'd be saying I could not spake plain.”

“No, no. You must have me, Biddy, because there's nobody
else for you to have—unless you take Sneak, the long lean pole of a
man.”

“Mr. Snake. And he'd be saying I didn't spake his name right,
ither.”

“He says so, now—he says you call him a snake.”

“Oh, the baste.”

“So you must have me, Biddy—and I'll make the best husband
in the world. Won't you.”

“There's a plenty of ithers, Mr. Back.”

“Who? Pompey and Cæsar and Hannibal are married.”

“The nagers! Don't speak to me again, Mr. Back.”

“I didn't say you could ever look at 'em.”

“But there's noble Indgens, Mr. Back—and I may get a chafe.
And then I'll be a chafeton's leddy.”

“I know you're afraid of 'em Biddy, and you're only tantalizing
me. It'll be all right. Listen, they're calling you. Charley and
Juliet are clapping their hands and calling you to go to them to see
the fireworks. Good bye. I must see after my dead king bull.”

As the exhibition of Glenn increased in intensity of brilliancy,
the apparently interminable herd of buffalo became more and more
desperate. Those next to the enclosure pressed frantically against

the rest, and the outside ones could be distinctly heard falling into
the water that flowed round the island.

Glenn increased the magnitude of his fire, so that there should
be no diminution of the terror; and when his revolving wheels
were nearly expended, he fired off Roman candles, which fell with
blinding brightness in the midst of the writhing mass of monsters,
who dashed desperately on, trampling under foot all that fell before
them.

“I've popped the question, Sneak,” said Joe, running back to
where Sneak stood looking out at the irresistible torrent, which still
thundered past.

“What? to Biddy? And when all creation's turned upside
down?”

“Hanged if I didn't.”

“And what did the gal say?”

“That's none of your business. But she called you a baste.”

“That's a tarnation sight better than a snake. But I'll baste her,
if she don't mind.”

“No you wont. But, Sneak, didn't I kill him?”

“Yes—I see twenty laying about. You killed 'em all.”

“That's impossible—I don't think I killed so many.”

“Most of 'em's calves.”

“I didn't shoot at 'em. The bull's my game.”

“There's a thousand going by to the minit,” said Sneak.

“But not my king bull? Suppose you kill one, Sneak. There's
my musket—wait till I load it.”

“No. You'll not catch me shooting that infarnel gun.”

“It kicks, Sneak, I must confess,” said Joe, as he recharged the
musket; “but don't you see I've padded the breech? When it
knocked me over a while ago, it didn't hurt a bit. It was like being
struck with boxing gloves.”

“With what?”

“Oh, I can't explain 'em, now. You never saw a boxing match.
Now for it. But won't you take the next fire?”

“No!”

“I thought it was polite to invite you. Yes. I see plenty of king
bulls. Here goes.”

Joe pulled the trigger, and was knocked at least twenty feet back,
while the gun, in its saltatory gyrations came in collision with
Sneak's head and prostrated him likewise.”

“Confound it!” cried Joe, springing up—“that was a buster, almost.
Biddy made me forget how much powder to pour in. But it
didn't hurt much. The pad saved me. Sneak, what're you getting
up for. How came you down?”

“Dod rot your dod rotted musket.”

“Where is it? Where's my gun? There it is, right by you.
Let me see it by the light of the fire works. It ain't busted. It's
a safe gun, Sneak.”

“Tarnation safe,” said Sneak, rubbing his head.

“But what made you dodge, Sneak?”

“I dodge?”

“Yes. Didn't I see you getting up?”

“Joe,” said Sneak, “I'll give you half my peltry, if you'll let
me break the stock and bend the barrel of your gun.”

“I wouldn't do it, Sneak, to save your long crane neck from breaking,
or swinging either. What does it matter to you, if it does
kick me? It's no concern of yours.”

“No consarn of mine? Dod rot it, didn't it jest knock me
down? Is not that a consarn of mine?”

“You must keep out of the way, if you ain't brave enough to
stand it. How do I stand it?”

“You don't stand it. Wasn't you jest this minit picking yourself
up off the ground?”

“But I didn't murmur at it. I'm used to it. “Good,” he continued,
looking out as he finished recharging his gun. “I floored
him, Sneak. I'd swear it's the bull I saw.”

“Yes, and maybe you'd swear to a lie. The critters are dying
with fright. But I'm in earnest Joe. I want to break the musket.
Mr. Glenn'll give you a rifle, and I'll larn you every day how to
shoot it.”

“I couldn't think of it, Sneak. I've got in the habit of shutting

my eyes when I pull the musket's trigger—and that won't do with
a rifle.

“If it wasn't for one thing I'd break it anyhow,” said Sneak.

“What one thing's that? fear I'd whip you?”

“Not exactly, Joe; though I should'nt wonder if you'd fight in
a case of that kind. I'd take a whipping to get rid of the tarnation
musket. But my conscience tells me I got my desarts just now for
putting a load of powder in when you were away with the gal.”

“Plague take your infernal hatchet face,” said Joe, putting down
his gun, and rolling up his sleeves, “I'll whip you any how, I believe.”

“But don't be sartin, Joe,” said Sneak, stepping back. “Don't
you hear Mr. Glenn hollering at you not to shoot agin?”

“No—did he?”

“He did. And don't you see the buffaloes are all gone?”

“That's so,” said Joe, looking out.

And as the rear of the mighty host swept past, Glenn fired a
quick succession of rockets after them, whose whizzing sounds as
they sailed horizontally over their heads, increased the panic of the
furious and maddened beasts. The hindmost leaped forward frantically
against those in front, and many were precipitated over the
rocky falls, or crushed in the narrow gorge at the lower extremity
of the valley. The remainder dashed across the stream and rushed
up the hill where the horsemen had passed with so much difficulty.
And as the trampling sound receded in the distance, the furious
barking of the little dog at the cave of the White Spirit was heard
again.

“They're all gone,” said Sneak.

“No, hanged if they are,” said Joe. “I see 'em lying about on
the ground. We'll have meat enough for a year, and tongues
enough for the ladies—and robes enough for the winter. And I'm
the only man who's killed any buffalo—and the only one that's
killed an Indian. Sneak, never hint anything against my gun.”

“Shet your mouth,” said Sneak. “Day's breaking—and I'm

glad of it. They're all gone in. Let's us go, too, and get something
to eat. I'm hungry. I saw you eating.”

“I've been eating all night, Sneak; you know I can't watch
when I'm hungry. Look at the poor dogs.”

This remark was occasioned by seeing the hounds, the spaniel,
and even Pete, slinking about the premises with their tails down in
great despondency. They had not barked once, like the little dog
at the White Spirit's cave, probably because, unlike the latter, they
had never beheld such an awful irruption before. “Stop that,” continued
Joe, as Pete sat down on his haunches, and began to howl
mournfully.

“Let the dog alone,” said Sneak, “and tell me what the gal said
when you popped the question.”

“I won't. It's none of your business.”

“I'm sartin to know it. I'll ask her.”

“Don't Sneak. She'll be offended if she knows I've been telling
our secrets to anybody.”

“I will—if you don't tell me.”

“Oh, then, she'll have me. That's enough.”

“I don't believe it, Joe, 'caused I axed her to have me, and she
didn't answer at all Fair play's a jewel. Don't look glum. She
must pick and choose for herself.”

Joe couldn't object to that. And so they went in harmoniously
to breakfast.